Unexpected Comfort
by Gonzo76
Summary: PostDH but before epilogue.  Sometimes one can find comfort in the most unlikely place...or with an unexpected person.  The [friendship only] pairings make sense in my head...  Comments and suggestions welcome.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue me.

**Daddy's Little Girl**

She couldn't take it anymore. The night was too quiet, and her thoughts were simply too loud. She needed to get out of this silent house and find a place where she could be truly alone.

After checking that Ginny was in fact asleep, Hermione threw off her covers and left the bedroom the two girls were currently sharing. Closing the door gently behind her, she crept down the stairs and found herself alone in the Burrow's cluttered kitchen. It had been nearly impossible to find a time or space to oneself in the two weeks since the end of the final Battle at Hogwarts. Hermione was afraid that she would soon hear a creak on the stair and be discovered by one of the many Weasleys who still filled the house.

She silently opened the door and headed outside towards Mr. Weasley's shed. The door lock gave way with a single, muttered spell and a swish from Hermione's wand. (The last few years of experience had taught Hermione never to be far from her wand.) She almost smiled at the evidence of the Weasley family that lay cluttered 'round the yard, but her expression faded the moment she saw piles of Muggle artifacts Mr. Weasley so loved. They reminded her too much of the thing she had tried so hard to avoid.

In the last weeks, Hermione had spent every waking moment comforting Ron, reassuring Harry, or even helping Molly scrub her already spotless home in preparation for the numerous visitors who had come to comfort the grieving family. These tasks kept her days occupied, but even as she comforted and cared for one family, she knew had neglected her own.

Tears she hadn't allowed herself fell down her cheeks as Hermione cleared a space on the floor and slid slowly down the wall. With nothing to occupy her hands or mind, she couldn't help but consider her greatest fears.

What if she couldn't even find her parents? What if the memory charm was irreversible? What if she simply wasn't good enough and had somehow left them damaged? And what if they were unable to forgive her not telling them the truth? Would they understand that she was protecting them?

Hermione drew up her knees and buried her head on her crossed arms. Sobs shook her shoulders as the unanswered continued to race through her mind.

Arthur Weasley came down his beloved home's creaky stairs and drew his wand the instant he saw the front door was slightly ajar. (Arthur, too, was still never far from his own wand.) After a quiet revealing charm, he determined no one was in the Burrow who should not be. But now he feared that someone who should be home was not.

Though he did not show his concern as, well, outwardly as his wife, Arthur worried as he watched his family try to deal with the aftermath of what was being called the Second Wizarding War. With a heavy heart, he lit his wand and left the front door himself, closing it quietly behind him.

A quick scan of the yard informed him that the shed door was open, and he resolutely walked towards it. Arthur admitted that the Weasley men, himself included, were not the best at publicly expressing emotion. On more than one occasion during the last two weeks, he had encountered one of his sons, with suspiciously red eyes, exiting his sanctuary. Sighing, Arthur headed towards the door, wondering which of his boys had looked for solace in his own hideaway.

He was shocked when he saw not Weasley red, but bushy brown hair on the figure who sat crying on the floor. Arthur considered backtracking and sending Molly…surely she would know better what to do with a sobbing teenage girl! His fatherly instincts took over before he could leave, however, and he found himself pocketing his wand, sliding down the wall, and sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with the young witch.

Hermione sensed the person beside her, and tried to take a calming breath before raising her head. Out of all the Weasleys who could have found her crying, she honestly didn't expect Ron's father to be the one who sat beside her with that look of quiet empathy. Scrubbing her hands over red eyes, Hermione was immediately ashamed of herself. The man beside her had lost a son, had been attacked himself in the name of the Order, and now he sat beside her, giving comfort. She who had lost no one, had sacrificed nothing.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Weasley. I never should have broken in. I just…I needed to…"

Tears began again as Hermione's voice trailed away. Mr. Weasley responded by pulling the witch into a fatherly embrace. "You just needed to stop being strong for a moment, Hermione. I've seen how you've been there for Ron and everyone, and I can only imagine what you've been through in the last year. It takes a particularly brave person to do all that."

With a little regret, Hermione pulled herself away. "You're wrong. I'm not strong at all. I'm not even brave enough to find my own parents."

Ah, so that was it, he thought. Hoping for wisdom, he began, "You'll find them Hermione, and when you do, they'll be yours again. And they'll be so proud of the clever, beautiful young woman they've raised."

Hermione managed a trembling smile, but doubt crept in as she asked, "And what if they don't?"

The words came more from his heart than his head as Arthur replied, "Then you'll come straight back home to us."

Knowing the sentiment was true, Hermione placed a kiss on the older wizard's cheek. "You'll tell them where I've gone?" At Mr. Weasley's nod, Hermione stood and headed for the door.

She was going to be alright.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing. 

**Brothers In Arms**

He couldn't take it anymore. It was simply too difficult, and he could no longer provide laughter enough for the both of them. He needed to get out, away from the sorrowful faces and the pitying glances of those who saw only one young man where two should be.

Without a backwards glance, George left the crowded yard of the Burrow and apparated with a quiet "pop" to a place where he could get lost in the crowd. He soon found himself in the middle of Diagon Alley, but he was not met by the hoped-for crowd. Instead, he saw quiet storefronts and a few milling customers. Coming from one of the few open shops was a small figure dressed in a Muggle suit and carrying parcels of various shapes and sizes. With a pang of guilt, George recognized the figure and began walking towards him.

"Oi, Dennis. What are you doing here?"

Apprehensively, the younger wizard began, "I just came from Col-…my brother's funeral."

George looked a bit shocked, "I'm so sorry, Dennis. We hadn't heard it was today. If we'd have known…"

Dennis shook his head. "You couldn't have. My parents aren't, well, they're not dealing well with how we lost him. They don't really understand how he could have snuck back to Hogwarts or even why we were fighting. So, they decided we'd only have a Muggle funeral." He took a deep breath before finishing. "The service was small. Not a lot of people, back home, I mean, know about what Colin is…what he was."

When Dennis trailed off, George couldn't help but think of the large crowd he'd left at the Burrow. It seemed like hundreds of family members, fellow Gryffindors, and even customers had shown up to celebrate the life of Fred Weasley. And here was Dennis, wearing the suit he'd been made to wear to his brother's funeral, in Diagon Alley…alone.

Looking at all the packages, George found his voice and dared to ask, "What's all this?"

A determined look at his face, Dennis replied, "I've come to figure out how to do a wizard funeral. I mean, I've seen one...Dumbledore's…and I don't reckon Colin would have wanted anything as grand as that. But I need to do something. Colin loved this world, it was his life, and I figure he needs to be sent off in proper fashion. Professor McGonagall even said she's let us use the Common Room. He would have loved that."

George merely nodded soberly. "How can I help?"

Shaking his head, Dennis replied, "You can't. I am going to plan it all by myself. I'm going to do it for him." 

Understanding perfectly, George merely said, "Send an owl once it's planned, and I'll be there."

Dennis thanked him and began making his way to the next shop. As George watched him walk away, he could only think that he would make it his mission to ensure every Gryffindor within flying, apparating, or flooing distance would be there, too. And he'd show up with a load of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, the best they had to offer.

With a determined smile, George walked towards his own boarded-up shop. He had work to do.

He was going to be alright.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **You think I'd own something by now, but not so much.

**Weird Sisters**

She couldn't take it anymore! For the last month, her house…her beloved, cluttered Burrow that had always been so full of shouting and laughter and unexplained explosions…was eerily quiet. It was as though those who were left behind were afraid to make any noise lest they disrespect the dead. And, quite frankly, she couldn't stand by and listen to, well, nothing anymore.

Ginny stomped down the stairs, ignoring the accusatory looks she got from the redheads assembled in the living room. Making her way into the kitchen, she saw quite possibly the last person on earth she wished to see. Phlegm…beg her pardon…Fleur was standing in the kitchen silently washing dishes from the family dinner that had taken place an hour before.

She resented the woman's presence. Everything from the way her hair shone in the fading sunlight that streamed through the window to the silent way she washed dishes in the Muggle way seemed to grab at Ginny's nerves. The truth was Ginny had come to accept the witch who had stood so staunchly by her older brother, even after his injury. But today she simply looked at her as one more thing in the house that did not belong. She so desperately wanted things to go back to how they used to be…and yet she knew they couldn't.

With a barely muffled snort of disgust, Ginny turned and was about to leave the room when her eyes fell on the wizarding wireless that Fred and George had bought for their mother on her last birthday. She froze, grief overwhelming her once more…and didn't realize that Fleur had been watching her for the past few moments.

Sympathy filled Fleur's heart. She could not imagine what it was like to lose a sibling, but she remembered her terror during the Tri-Wizard Tournament when she thought her dear Gabrielle was in danger. Though she was unsure the younger witch would appreciate it, Fleur knew she had to act. Not sparing Ginny a look, she took her wand and flicked a spell at the wireless. After remaining quiet for so many weeks, it came to life with a shout, music filling the room.

Ginny now looked from the wireless to Fleur, disbelief in her eyes. Instantly, she recognized the song, and her heart lurched as she listened to one of Tonks's favorite songs being played so joyfully from the gift Fred had so picked for their mother.

Raising her wand, Ginny noticed as Fleur's beautiful face fell. Instead of turning the sound off, however, she forced the music even louder than the older witch had dared. A defiant look in her eyes, Ginny turned towards Fleur and offered her hand.

A disbelieving crowd gathered at the kitchen door and much shoving occurred as the Weasleys tried to get a look at what they were sure was a rather loud fight between the two sisters-in-law. Shock faded into smiles as they took in the sight before them.

Silvery blond and fiery red hair twirled as the two young women danced and laughed and sang through their tears.

Ginny barely glanced at the crowd as it edged its way into the room, but she took notice when her father grabbed her mother's hand and pulled her into a slow waltz

She then looked at the young witch who'd had the bravery to bring sound and even a little joy back into their lives. She squeezed her hand and then released it so Fleur could go join her husband. Bill held her tightly as she put her head on his shoulder and they slowly swayed.

The rest of the family began impromptu jigs, and Ginny giggled at some very interesting solo performances by her brothers. She then, however, took a few steps back out of the melee and closed her eyes. She didn't need to dance anymore. She only needed to hear her family again.

She was going to be alright.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Drat. Still not mine.

**Godfathers and Sons**

He couldn't take it anymore. Too many people had been lost, too many were now grieving, hurting. And he couldn't help but think that it had all happened because he wasn't clever enough, wasn't quick enough.

Standing in Ron's room at the Burrow, Harry straightened his dress robes. He was wearing them to yet another funeral…his third in as many days. This one, however, would prove to be the most difficult of all. This one was for his friend, his teacher, his mentor…his last link to his parents. Today, Remus Lupin and his young wife would be laid to rest.

Harry took himself down the stairs and called to the Weasleys that he would be traveling by himself to the Tonks residence and then the church nearby. He heard no argument, but was not surprised. The family was still reeling from Fred's death and was still attempting to arrange his memorial service which was planned for the next day. With another pang of regret, Harry left for Mrs. Tonks's home with a quiet "pop."

He steeled himself before he knocked on the door. Though he had talked to Andromeda several times since the battle, he was unsure if he was truly welcome in her home. Did she blame Harry? Was she afraid he'd try to take Teddy? Harry shuddered at the thought. He felt barely able to take care of himself at this point, let alone a child of only a few months. No, he would make sure Mrs. Tonks knew that he would do everything he could. Teddy would never want for anything. 'Except his parents,' Harry thought to himself ruefully.

After knocking on the door, Harry waited and was greeted by a somber and much older looking Andromeda. He said hello quietly, and she simply asked, "Would you please take him to the church?"

Harry got the uncomfortable feeling that Mrs. Tonks couldn't even bear to say her own grandchild's name. He mutely nodded and headed towards the nursery.

The child in question was lying in his cot and shaking his little fists at the world around him. With some apprehension Harry picked up the infant…who immediately began to fuss. Noticing an ancient rocking chair, Harry carefully walked across the room, sat, and began to slowly move with the child in his arms. Still unsure of himself, Harry simply began to speak.

Emotion clouded his voice. "I'm so, so sorry, Teddy. I wish there was a way I could change things. I know it was my fault, and I…"

He broke off, feeling a bit ridiculous saying these things, things that he had been unable to say to anyone, to such a small baby. The next words, however, came so naturally he was almost surprised himself.

"It's so unfair that I got to know so much of your parents and you so little."

His heart ached when he thought of Sirius and the godfather he had so wanted to be. However, the ache quickly gave way to something stronger, something more pure and clear.

With determination, Harry looked once more at the child who had been entrusted to him.

"I'll make sure you know everything about them. You're going to be so proud of your parents, who they were, what they stood for. And you're going to live every day to make them, and yourself, happy. They gave you life, and then they gave you a world without war."

Harry looked down and realized that between the gentle rocking and the soothing voice, Teddy had nodded off. He whispered, "I reckon you didn't understand a word of that, but someday you will. I promise."

With only a little awkwardness, Harry snuggled the now sleeping baby on his shoulder. He decided that they'd spend a few more minutes in the quiet of the nursery before walking downstairs and then to the little church in town. Until then, Harry would sit and listen to his godson's peaceful breathing.

Instead of being lost in regrets of the past, he would focus on the promise of the future.

He was going to be alright.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Nada. I don't own 'em.

**A Grandmother's Heart**

She couldn't take it anymore. She stood silently and alone between two mounds of earth. One was freshly covered, a vivid scar on top of the vibrantly green grass, and the other was slightly older, with the beginnings of vegetation on top of the soil.

Taking a deep breath, Andromeda Black Tonks, looked down at the ground and could think of nothing more than what she'd lost…those two beloved souls who now rested beneath her feet. The unfairness of it all shook her, and she wanted nothing more than to join them. To let herself fall. To be for all eternity with the man who loved her enough to rescue her from her family and the girl who brought her more joy than she'd ever dreamed she experience.

Andromeda sensed the presence of someone beside her before she felt a light touch on her arm. She resented the intrusion, but proper protocol had been all but bred into her at a young age. When she turned to meet the intruder's eyes, she saw a rather severe looking older witch.

"I'm Augusta Longbottom, Mrs. Tonks. My boy over there," she nodded in the direction of the teenagers who had joined Harry during the short, simple service, "he spoke highly of your daughter and son-in-law. He was convinced there was never a finer teacher than Remus Lupin, and he was very impressed with your daughter's bravery that night at the Ministry."

Nodding, Andromeda was once again reminded of the large number of Hogwarts students, past and present, who had come to pay respects today. She had assumed that they were there for Harry, but now acknowledged that most had come to honor a man who had taught them so much.

Finding her voice, Andromeda said, "Thank you so much for being here. I'm sure…I'm sure Dora and Remus would have appreciated your coming."

The older woman recognized the stiffness and heartbreak in the other's voice. She'd heard it in her own too many times, and now she knew she'd have to finish the conversation she'd been almost too afraid to begin.

"I don't know if you're aware, but I…in a way, I lost my son and his wife many years ago."

When the stranger took a breath to clear the tears that inevitably lodged in her throat, Andromeda couldn't help but think, 'Of course I know that. It was my own sister who took them from you.' She needn't say the words aloud, however. Each saw the truth in the other's eyes.

Mrs. Longbottom continued, "I was already a widow when they were taken, so I was the only one left." She shook her head, "I was so angry when my boy became an auror, and then he went and married an auror, too. In the middle of a wizarding war, if you can believe that. And then they had a baby. I couldn't believe how stubborn they were, how careless."

At Andromeda's sharp intake of breath, Mrs. Longbottom continued, "And then they left me alone….and I almost couldn't forgive them. But then I realized the gift they gave me."

Andromeda watched as the older woman's eyes drifted towards to clustered teenagers who were now watching as Harry inexpertly cuddled his blue haired godson in his arms.

"That one over there is my heart. Even on the days when I wanted to fall apart, he held me together. He'll never know it, and maybe someday I should tell him, but that boy over there…even though he's become a wonderful, brave young man now…he saved my life. And he'll always be my little boy."

With another gentle touch on Andromeda's sleeve and a firm nod of her head, Augusta Longbottom took her leave. On her way out, she paused at her grandson's side.

Andromeda watched as arm-in-arm, they left the cemetery together. She took one last look at the graves and then straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. The gentle breeze that had begun as soon as the minister stopped speaking now carried a baby's cooing towards her. She smiled for the first time in months and walked towards that swet sound.

He was her little boy…her daughter's final gift.

She was going to be alright.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **I'm on the last chapter, and I still don't own 'em. Alas...

**A Mother's Memories**

She couldn't take it anymore. Tonight was particularly difficult. The house had not quieted down until much later than usual, and she was behind schedule. That would not do. Not at all.

When the last light was extinguished upstairs, Molly grabbed some powder and spoke quietly but clearly into the sparkling flames. In a stomach-turning instant, she was pitched forward out of the fireplace at the Hogs Head Inn. The barkeeper simply nodded at his nightly visitor as she dusted herself off and walked with purpose out the door and down the long path towards Hogwarts.

The suits of armor which had taken up permanent residence at the entry way to the school bowed with recognition to the woman who had been their evening guest for the last two months. She moved more quickly than usual, but began to slow when she came to an achingly familiar bit of corridor. The stones had been repaired, and if one didn't know the story, they would never guess the tragedy that had occurred here. Molly ran one hand along the new stone, just as she always did, before moving to the memorial wall that had been erected in the Great Hall.

She paused, however, when she saw a figure already standing by the memorial and lovingly tracing her finger along the names etched in the stone. The old tartan dressing gown and loose grey hair almost masked the person's identity, but Molly would have known that strict posture anywhere.

Instantly afraid her nightly venture was about to be discovered, Molly resigned herself to leaving without reaching her goal. Before she could escape to the corridor, however, she heard the older witch call her name. Molly turned towards the other woman and began to walk slowly to the monument. She was shocked when Minerva spoke.

"You are usually here well before I am, Molly dear. What kept you?"

Taken aback, Molly stuttered, "Well…I couldn't get away."

Minerva smiled, "All those Weasleys must keep you busy. You are a blessed woman, Molly Prewett."

Molly wasn't sure what surprised her the most: Professor McGonagall's use of her maiden name or the fact that the older witch, as she had since Molly's own school days, saw right into her heart. "They do. I…I am."

Minerva nodded and then began tracing her fingers over the stone once more. Molly was suddenly stuck by the older woman's expression. The names she touched, the faces she must be remembering, were all students who had walked through these very doors. Minerva had taught them, at times punished them, and constantly encouraged them to be the very best they could possibly be. In those long months between summer holidays, Professor McGonagall was the woman to whom they went with fears or questions. In her own strict, but fair way, she loved them.

As though she had read Molly's mind, McGonagall said, "They are all mine…even those whose names will never be on this wall because of the unfortunate choices they've made." She thought fleetingly of Bellatrix Lestrange and poor little Petter Pettigrew. "They are all mine, and I can't leave them."

Tearing her eyes from Minerva's face, Molly reached out and touched her son's name…just as she'd done every night since the stone had been erected so soon after the battle. Every night since his body had lain in this very room. On that night, she wouldn't leave him…and it had somehow become her duty, a mother's duty, to make sure he was never forgotten, never alone.

As she took one more look at Minerva McGonagall, however, Molly realized that she had just made her last late night journey to Hogwarts. She no longer needed to make sure that Fred was remembered. That duty was already fulfilled.

A mother stood watch at Hogwarts. A mother mourned there.

With a quiet good night, Molly moved quickly towards the Entrance Hall and the door. Though she preferred to use the floo network, she would apparate as soon as she cleared the Hogwarts grounds.

She needed to get home. She was needed there.

She was going to be alright.


End file.
